The Leaky Cauldron
by Madame Rose
Summary: Glancing the clock, she realized what time it was, and immediately stopped cleaning the countertop. It was eighty thirty, and it was about time for a certain redheaded Weasley to come in and demand his usual Firewhiskey before stalking off into a corner.


**Author's Note**: Wow. This might be _the _most pointless story I've ever written. It's not (really) romantic, it's not that well written, and it doesn't even make much sense to anyone but me, I'll bet. But this little plot bunny has been bugging me for a while. I guess my inner-writer wants to get to know Hannah Abbott. I don't know.

**Disclaimer**: I'm not JKR, last time I checked. I can't write phenomenons!

_The Leaky Cauldron  
_A RonxHermione (sort of?) Fanfic  
April 17, 2008

The Leaky Cauldron was still quite the Wizarding hub, even after the war. Hannah Abbott had done a good job with keeping it running, even after Tom decided to finally retire and see if he could find his fortune in Belize. She _had _found his ambition a bit weird – after all, he'd been at the Leaky Cauldron longer than anyone could remember – but she accepted it without questioning Tom too much. She couldn't really regret Tom leaving: Neville had proposed to her the night that the old bartender told Hannah that he would be giving her the keys to the shop the next day. The two of them had been happy ever since despite the fact that Neville was often gone for long periods of time during the school year.

Whistling through her teeth, the blonde haired girl glanced up around the noisy bar. Witches and Wizards of all different places in life milled around, laughing and joking and drinking and sometimes even brooding. The noise calmed her in a way, and Hannah hated it when the bar was too deserted. Sparing a look at the clock, she realized what time it was, and immediately stopped cleaning the countertop. It was eighty thirty, and it was about time for a certain redheaded Weasley to come in and demand his usual Firewhiskey before stalking off into the corner.

Hannah could never really understand why Ron was so miserable. She'd heard that he and Hermione Granger were married – took long enough, Hannah had always thought that the two of them would get together – and he was helping his brother George at the wildly successful Weasley's Wizarding Wheezey's. Still, Ron stalked in every night, his expression sour, and demanded that she bring him a drink. There was no "thank you", no "how are you, Hannah", not even a "have you seen Neville around lately". This behavior was somewhat new, he hadn't been acting like this before, but the past three weeks told Hannah that it wasn't exactly wise of her to annoy Ron when he was in one of his moods.

Surely enough, the redhead stomped in, his typical scowl dampening Hannah's mood ever so slightly. "Hello, Ron!" she exclaimed, cheerful despite his dour expression.

"Hey," he grumbled, sliding into a barstool and glaring at her for absolutely no reason. "Firewhiskey, please."

Hannah had to repress a sigh as she turned her back to him, scouring the walls for a bottle of fresh Fire-Whiskey. She was running low, she noted as she pulled the dark bottle off the wall. Tonight if she had time she'd have to make some more.

"Six knuts," she said, sliding the drink to him. Hannah'd put a cherry (specially grown by Neville as to not immediately combust when it made contact with the magical liquid) in his glass in hopes of gleaning a smile from him, but no such reaction came.

"Thanks," Ron mumbled, picking up his drink and slouching over to a dark table secluded from the main crowd. It was sad, Hannah sighed, to see Ron like that. She'd never had much interaction with him in school aside from lessons (then again, who _did _have any interaction with Harry, Ron, and Hermione besides themselves?) but he seemed like a cheerful enough fellow when they were in school. Seeing him so moody and depressed was just plain confusing. What was more, Harry and Hermione weren't with him, and that was just plain bizarre.

Biting her lip, Hannah looked at the clock again. 8:34. Perhaps she could leave the bar for a few minutes… It was in her nature (after all, she _was _a Hufflepuff) to be kind and compassionate to other when they needed it… And Ron seemed to need it. Mustering her courage and putting a "Be Right Back" sign on the bar, she took off her apron, threw her blonde hair into a ponytail, and walked towards Ron's table.

"_He really does look depressed," _Hannah thought to herself, a small frown tugging at her lips. But she quickly turned it into a chipper grin as she slid into the seat across from Ron. The youngest Weasley brother seemed not to notice as he continued staring at the rivets in the table, far away from the world that surrounded him. "Hey," Hannah said, her voice loud enough to jerk Ron out of his stupor.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, eyes narrowed and tone defensive. Hannah blushed slightly as she glanced down at the table, suddenly wondering why she did something as stupid as just sauntering up to a customer.

"I…uh…I just…I thought we could catch up," she muttered, still slightly pink. "You looked lonely, and…"

"And you thought you'd find out why I've become such a regular customer, hm?" His lips twitched into what looked briefly like a smile, but the smile quickly vanished as he turned his gaze to his Firewhiskey.

"Yeah," Hannah smiled. "I don't usually see you without Harry or Hermione, so I guess I was worried."

"Yes, well, nobody really sees the three of us apart, now do they? Don't seem to remember that we are different people. No, we're just a _Trio_." Ron spat the last word, his blue eyes flashing with something that looked like anger mixed with jealousy. "Just a fucking _Trio _who just can't get away from anything without the damn press following them."

Hannah was at a loss for words as she looked at the fearsome expression on Ron's face. She'd never seen him this annoyed before, though she'd heard of the fights between him and Hermione that would sometimes occur in the Gryffindor common room, and it scared her. Hannah was not, of course, oblivious to the things that Ron had one, and she knew that he was a powerful wizard with what seemed to be a powerfully quick temper. Making him angry wasn't on her list of things to do.

"Did you know that I have yet to go a week without being in the Prophet for some mundane reason or another? I can't get my damn privacy because everyone thinks it's their business what the _Golden Trio_ is up to. Because, of course, the three of us are still _so _important. Harry's an Auror, of course, Hermione's already doing huge things at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and I'm a shop keeper. A shop keeper, of all things!" He slammed his fist down on the table, rattling it just enough to spill the Firewhiskey all over the surface. Hannah thanked her lucky stars for the various charms that were on the table that prevented such accidents from ruining them, and she quickly whipped out her wand and siphoned away the mess.

"Do you like being a shop keeper?" Hannah asked a few minutes later after the table was clean and Ron's drink was refilled.

He shrugged, making a non-committal gesture with his hands. "It's all right. George needed the help after… Well, he needed the help. But I'm not a business man like him. I don't even know what I am."

"You're Ron Weasley, obviously," Hannah grinned, attempting to make light of the situation. But that only caused Ron to glower at her even more, his scowl deepening.

"Yes, I'm Ron Weasley. Part of the Golden Trio. Best friend to Harry Potter, husband to Hermione Granger. Youngest Weasley son. Did you know I'm also going to be a father?"

Hannah's jaw dropped, and a huge smile lit up her face. "You are? Congratulations! Oh, Neville will be so excited to know!"

"If he doesn't already know, that is," Ron interrupted. "See, it wasn't Hermione who told me. I wanted to read the paper to find out what was happening in the world, and instead I get a huge, glaring headline informing me that my wife is pregnant. We didn't get the honor of telling all our friends before the entire Wizarding world knew. I received an owl from my mother only seconds later chastising me for not telling her something I didn't know." His voice broke towards the end, and Hannah could feel a little bit of her heart breaking for him.

"I'm so sorry, Ron," she whispered. "That's just not right."

He nodded before going on. "And so I've been in here every night since. I can't bear to look at Hermione, to see how disappointed she is that she didn't get to tell me. I can't bear to look at Harry, who, even though he won't admit it, is mad at me because he thinks that I kept one of the biggest secrets of my life from him, but told the press. And my mother thinks that I don't love her – ha!" He made a scathing noise under his breath before burying his head in his hands. "I'm just sick of all this publicity," Ron said, his voice muffled. "How can I bring a child into a world where he or she will never get any privacy?"

Hannah sighed, unsure of what to say. "I don't know, Ron," she eventually said. "I wish I could do something for you…" Her voice trailed off as she stood up, aware of the long line of people 

that were beginning to show signs of agitation because of the lack of flowing alcohol. "If you need to talk, or if you need another Firewhiskey, I'll be at the bar, okay?" Ron nodded, his head still in his hands, and Hannah walked away.

Ron remained there longer than usual that night, his eyes in another place as he gazed at nothing in particular. It was nearing eleven, time for the partiers to come out, when Harry Potter walked into the bar, frowning and clearly looking for Ron. "He's over there," Hannah called, hoping that Harry could help Ron where she could not. Harry grinned at her, quickly making his way over to the table. Hannah could just barely hear what they were saying.

"Ron, you have to go home. Hermione's getting worried."

"I don't have to do anything."

"You've been here every night. This isn't like you, I know you like spending time with Hermione and doing explicit things that I don't like to know about."

"Like you aren't doing the same things with Ginny."

"Shut up and stop changing the subject."

"Fine."

"What are you doing here? I know it has to be something. You don't just mope around unless you've been fighting with Hermione, and according to her there hasn't been a big blowout in a few months."

"It's nothing, Harry."

"Shut up, you great prick. You know I know you too well to accept that tosh."

"Fine. I'm pissed off at the damn Prophet for telling me that my wife is pregnant before I even knew."

"Is that it?"

"Is there any other reason for me to be upset?"

"Well, I thought you might have done something stupid, like cheated on Hermione or something."

Hannah nearly dropped the glass she was absent mindedly washing when she heard that. Ron, cheat on Hermione? She would sooner sprout turnips out her ears. Ron clearly thought the same thing, because he was looking at Harry like he had suddenly grown a second head that was singing opera.

"No, I did not cheat on my wife, Harry. I just think that I'm a horrible husband because I didn't notice that she was pregnant when apparently it was blindingly obvious to the rest of the Wizarding world."

"Mate, I didn't even notice, and neither did Gin. I don't know how half of these reporters manage to get their information. Probably rooted around in the trash for a pregnancy test or something."

"A pregnancy test? Is it hard?"

"No, you great idiot, it's a little stick that… Never mind. Anyway, who knows how they got that information. It doesn't really matter, though, does it? Hermione's pregnant. Laugh, joy, celebrate the news! You're going to have a kid! When James was born, it was the happiest day of my life, mate. It's going to be awesome."

There was a brief silence before Ron spoke.

"What if I'm a bad father?"

"There's no way you could be a bad father, Ron. You're a Weasley. It's genetically programmed for you to be a fabulous parent."

There was another silence, and then:

"I should probably go home to Hermione."

"Probably. I'd reckon worn a hole in the ground, what with the number of times she's paced around the room. You know she hates it when you leave…. She always thinks you're not going to come back."

"Don't remind me. I'll talk to you later."

Ron got up, stretching his long limbs before heading for the door. Before he exited, though, he threw a brief smile at Hannah, which she gladly returned. Harry left a few minutes later, dropping a sickle on the counter and grinning at Hannah as well before telling her to give Neville his best.

The Leaky Cauldron had, in the end, always been a place where there was a happy ending.


End file.
